


because of you.

by rachelbee



Series: Weekly Challenge [6]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, no?, one-shot means 5k words or more right?, seriously i write too much okay something is wrong with me, whoops must've missed the memo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelbee/pseuds/rachelbee
Summary: Written (late, but who's really paying attention to that) for the weekly challenge on tumblr by officerparker.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this prompt was one of the trickier ones because it's so descriptive that it basically writes itself, which is odd because then you don't want your work to mirror someone else's. I wish the prompts were more vague. But, this is my attempt at week 6. It kinda got away from me. I had to describe Lucy's struggle before I could even get to the bar, so bear with me. Lots of backstory to get to the actual prompt again, like with 'six'.

She really needed to start being more careful.

Lucy resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she stared up at the man in the fedora, baring his teeth at her in a nasty grin, his eyes raking up and down her body as she struggled against the post he’d tied her to. The only source of light in the small, dusty room flickered above her head, and it glinted off of the knife the man held, balanced precariously between his fingertips. He was playing with her, toying with her mind. Threatening her for the thrill of it.

Where were Wyatt and Rufus?

Wyatt. The thought of her soldier brought back some of the training he’d given her when she’d been captured the fifth - or was it the sixth - time just a few months ago.

Yes, she had unwillingly made this a habit of sorts.

Her arms were restrained, but her feet were free. She could possibly kick him in his private area, if she could get enough momentum to swing her leg up that hard. The only problem was that once he was down, she still had no way to get out of her restraints.

Focus on freeing yourself first, Lucy. Then you can beat the shit out this guy.

The rope he had tied around her wrists was beginning to chafe, and she watched as he circled her, the knife dancing in his fingers as he twirled it back and forth, almost as an afterthought.

“Well, miss,” he drawled in a heavy accent, his mustache quirking as he grinned at her. “I am certain that the boss will appreciate you.” He rested his palm on her cheek, smirking as she tried to pull away from his grasp. “If he doesn’t, I know I will.”

With that, the man in the fedora whose name she couldn’t bother remembering turned on his heel and exited the room, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Excellent.

A locked door, she remembered Wyatt telling her, was a good thing. Yes, it meant that you were locked in, but you were always alerted as to when your captors were coming back.

“Just make sure you stay safe. If it’s too dangerous to escape, then just stay where you are,” Wyatt had instructed her, looking her in the eyes as they’d both sat in a conference room at Mason Industries on a lazy Sunday afternoon. “I _will_ find you,” he promised, and she’d nearly shivered at the sincerity in his voice.

He was coming for her. She knew that.

Lucy closed her eyes, trying to remember how to get out of rope bindings. She knew how to do it if her hands were tied in front of her from an old spy movie that Amy had watched religiously as a kid. But, her hands were behind her, her elbows almost painfully bent around the pole. She tried to shift her hands forward, bending her elbows and pulling her wrists back towards her.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she worked on stretching the rope enough to slip her hands through. It had begun cutting into her wrists now, and the feel of something stick trickling down her arm told her that she’d drawn blood.

Lucy hardly cared that she was bleeding as long as she was free.

She breathed deeply before readjusting and trying again, letting out a soft whimper as she worked on pulling her arms through the rope, loosening it up. The rope was only pulling tighter, cutting deeper into the already wounded skin. She relaxed her arms, letting them slide a little further down the pole as she leaned back, closing her eyes as she tried not to cry.

Wyatt was coming for her. He’d be there.

Keys jingled in the lock, and Lucy quickly straightened up, working to wipe all emotion from her face. The door swung open, and fedora guy waltzed in, followed by a tall man with a cigar between his teeth. She picked her head up, refusing to lose his gaze as he stopped a foot away from her, looking her up and down, appraising her.

She wanted to vomit.

He glanced between her and fedora guy, then nodded, frowning. “Yes, I suppose she’ll do. Bring her to my room,” the man barked, turning around and walking through the doors. Lucy’s heart sped up as fedora guy suddenly materialized behind her. Her wrists were free, and the rope slid through her wound. She couldn’t hold back the soft cry of pain as he gripped her injured wrist and yanked her away from the pole.

“Wait,” she pleaded trying to yank her arm out of his grip, but he was unrelenting, smirking down at her as she was helplessly dragged after him. “Wait,” she repeated, stronger, but he wouldn’t let go. “Wyatt!” she tried instead, beginning to panic as they crested the landing and she could see the room she would be forced into.

“Hey,” the man holding her barked, dragging her closer, bending his face close to hers, his eyes wild. “Keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, got it? Or I’ll break this arm in two.” Lucy gritted her teeth, waiting for him to turn back around before throwing a glance over her shoulder, praying that she’d see a familiar face.

He was coming for her. He would be there, and he’d be just in time like he always was.

No one was there.

She took a deep breath, refusing to let herself think of any other scenarios. He was coming for her. He promised he would.

“Wyatt!” she screamed again, forgetting the man’s threat. There was a sickening _crack_ as her arm twisted abnormally, and there was a sharp, loud scream that made Lucy’s ears ring.

“Hey!”

Lucy looked up from where her arm was now hanging limp in her captor’s grip, allowing a small smile as she tried to ignore the mind-numbing pain that was slowly spreading through her, allowing her to feel every break in her poor arm.

He was here.

Two gunshots rang out, and fedora guy was down in an instant, Lucy falling with him as her arm crashed to the floor. She screamed again, tears falling down her cheeks as Wyatt quickly rushed to her side, crouching down beside her.

“Lucy, I’m so sorry, we searched all over this damn building for you. I didn’t know where you were until you screamed,” he explained quickly, breathlessly as he tried to gently move her arm out from underneath fedora guy’s broken body. She whimpered, the pain nearly unbearable, and Wyatt gently shushed her, whispering soothing words as he maneuvered her arm into her chest, taking her other hand and placing it under the broken arm. “Just hold on, okay? Rufus is back at the Lifeboat. We’re going home.”

“What about Emma?” Lucy muttered as Wyatt gently helped her to her feet. His arm was wound tightly around her waist, guiding her toward the exit, toward safety.

“You need to see a doctor,” Wyatt simply responded, his gaze steely as he regarded his surroundings carefully.

That’s what Lucy needed to start doing.

They made it back to the Lifeboat without a hitch. Rufus was waiting at the entrance, his eyes wide, anxiously watching his teammates. Wyatt suddenly stopped, sweeping his arm under Lucy’s legs, scooping her up into his arms as she cradled her broken arm against her body.

“She’s hurt,” Wyatt said tersely as he carefully held Lucy out. Rufus’ arms replaced Wyatt’s, and suddenly she was gently being set into her seat in the Lifeboat. “Lucy,” Wyatt’s calming voice muttered, and she thought she heard a hint of fear. “Luce, you need to stay awake, okay?”

Lucy shook her head, yawning. She was going home. Wyatt was with her. Rufus was bringing them back to 2017. It was safe to sleep now.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Rufus murmured, his voice far away as Lucy’s eyes slipped shut, her head lolling back against the headrest of her chair. “Wyatt, she’s going to pass out.”

“Lucy!” Wyatt shouted, panicked. She wanted to open her eyes, she did, but it was just so much nicer with her eyes closed. “Lucy, come on, open your eyes for me.” He was pleading. His voice was breaking. Had she caused that? She struggled to pick her head up, to look him in the eyes and promise him it would be okay, just as he’d done for her when he got injured on their missions through time. She wanted to reassure him that she’d be fine.

But, she was just so tired.

* * *

Lucy turned her face further into her pillow, burying her nose in the sweet smell. She frowned; her pillow was much tougher than usual. She opened her eyes to find rough gray fabric under her head, her head nestled in the crook of two separate pillows. Her eyes adjusted in the dark room, and she suddenly realized what - or rather, who - her pillow was as he began to stir.

“Luce?” Wyatt mumbled, his voice rough with sleep as his arm tightened around her, his eyes blinking open in the darkness. She stared up at him, smiling softly.

One thing she enjoyed about waking up at Wyatt’s apartment since she’d all but moved in with him a few months ago was watching him wake up. He got this little crinkle above his eyebrows that she loved to watch smooth itself out as he became aware of his surroundings, aware that she was with him, and then he’d offer her a sleepy smile, his eyes squinting up at her as he allowed his body to wake up.

He woke up the same way, shifting them so he was sitting up, his arm still tight around her, supporting her.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered in the darkness, and Lucy struggled to remember how she’d gotten here, worried it was a dream. “How’s your arm?” he prompted instead, and she quickly turned toward her injured arm, forgetting for the moment that she’d broken her arm.

That was the last thing she remembered. She had been waiting for Wyatt and began panicking, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t find her this time, wouldn’t come for her like he promised, and screamed his name. Then, she was in the Lifeboat, and Wyatt and Rufus were hovering over her, panicking. Wyatt had tightened her harness around her sleeping form, and his hand had stayed on her knee the entire trip home.

She vaguely remembered him screaming at the medics to let him come with her as her gurney was pushed through swinging doors, but everything after that was too blurry to remember properly.

Her arm was wrapped in a heavy cast, and she saw a sling set on the small tray table by her bed. Of course. She’d need to stay in a cast for a while.

“Luce,” Wyatt whispered, and her attention turned back to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lucy replied quickly, and she could feel him relax behind her. She snuggled down deeper in his arms and he chuckled, tucking her close to his side as she rested her head on his chest again. “I’m just still sleepy. Trying to remember everything is making my head hurt.” His lips brushed across her forehead, almost pressing a kiss there, but not quite.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered against her skin, and she sighed, feeling completely safe with him. “The nurse won’t be back for a couple more hours. Get some rest.”

She wanted to ask where they were, what had happened in 1938, if they knew anything about Emma, where Rufus was, how long she’d have to be in this stupid cast. But all that came out was a large yawn, and Lucy obeyed her body’s desire to be asleep and snuggled down in Wyatt’s hold, her eyes shutting instantly as she fell asleep quickly.

* * *

When Lucy woke again, it was to Wyatt gently running his fingers through her hair, watching her carefully, that frown present once more. She opened her eyes wider, shifting in his hold and sitting up against him.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased her, smoothing her hair down. “Didn’t realize how curly your hair is in the mornings,” he mused, twisting a lock around his finger as she squinted blearily up at him. “Guess you wake me up more often than I wake you up, though.”

“Yeah, and it is not easy getting you up,” Lucy mumbled, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder, pressing her cold nose into the warmth he provided. He chuckled, continuing to absently run his fingers through her hair.

“Agent Christopher wants you to brief her as soon as possible,” he muttered, his lips pressed against her hair again, not quite kissing her. “I can go if you two need privacy.” Lucy’s uninjured arm, reached out, clutching the first body part she could reach, her fingers wrapping around his leg, holding him there.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, and his hand reached down to meet hers, entwining their fingers as he brought her hand back up to his chest, holding it against his heart. It immediately calmed her down as the door swung open, illuminating their small room.

Wyatt reached over, her hand still firmly held in his, and turned the light on. The room was bathed in brightness and Lucy slammed her eyes shut, slowly allowing herself to adjust.

“Lucy,” Agent Christopher said gently. “Do you know who I am?” Lucy opened her eyes raising an eyebrow.

“I have a broken arm, not brain damage,” she deadpanned and Wyatt huffed a laugh as Agent Christopher stood up straight.

“She’s sassy in the mornings,” he explained, looking up at Agent Christopher. Lucy didn’t miss the slight smile that appeared on Agent Christopher’s face at the implication that she and Wyatt spent many mornings together.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, sitting beside Lucy’s bed, in the chair she supposed had been meant for Wyatt before he’d climbed into bed with her. She wondered if she’d had a nightmare.

Lucy began slowly recounting everything that had happened, telling her about 1938 and why they were there. When she got to the part about being separated from Wyatt and Rufus and getting lost, Wyatt rested his head on top of hers, burying his nose in her hair.

When she told her about the fedora guy threatening her as he dragged her to his boss’ bedroom, he stiffened underneath her, his muscles pulled taut against her back.

“That’s all I remember,” she finished, after explaining how she had gotten into the Lifeboat and fallen asleep, much to Rufus and Wyatt’s dismay. Agent Christopher, glancing down at the notes she’d been jotting down as Lucy spoke.

“Thank you, Lucy,” she replied, standing and collecting her papers, folding them neatly. Her and Wyatt both watched her, waiting.

“So, can I go?” Lucy asked warily, and Wyatt leaned forward in anticipation of the answer. Agent Christopher looked back at Lucy, sizing up her injuries.

“I don’t see why not,” she muttered, nodding back toward the door. “Afraid it’s not up to me, though. Your doctor will be in here in a minute to give the final say.”

She offered Lucy one last smile before turning and heading out the door. Lucy and Wyatt sat there for a moment, Lucy relaxing into his arms as she thought about everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

* * *

She must have fallen asleep because it was dark in her room again when she was gently shaken awake by Wyatt. She squinted up at him, her vision blurry with sleep as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the room. He was smirking at her, his hair mussed from sleep, his cheek red where it must have been pressed against her head.

“Good morning, Miss Preston,” a voice said, and she started in Wyatt’s arms, turning to find the doctor smiling down at her. She smiled politely, nodding as she yawned. Wyatt chuckled, holding her closer.

“So, how’s she look, Doc?” he asked, glancing up at the doctor. The doctor looked over the chart he held in his hands and Lucy frowned as she tried to peek over the clipboard, wanting to know what that paper said about her.

“Well, Miss Preston, everything looks alright,” he muttered, flipping the page. Lucy bent her head forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the first page, and she felt Wyatt huff a laugh behind her. “I guess my only question would be what year you were in?”

That gave Lucy pause. She craned her head up from trying to see what was written about her on the page, frowning up at the doctor. “What?” she mumbled, frowning softly. “Oh, um, I think it was 1936?”

The doctor frowned, and she panicked. That wasn’t right. She knew what year it was.

“No, sorry, it was 1939,” she corrected herself, entirely unsure if she was actually correcting herself. The doctor’s frown deepened, and she knew that was wrong as well. “Wait, no, it was 1940?”

She turned around, looking to Wyatt for help as the doctor tutted. Wyatt caught her gaze, jumping in immediately.

“Look, Doc, I can’t even remember what year we were just in,” he joked halfheartedly, squeezing Lucy tighter. She frowned; Wyatt wouldn’t want her to leave the hospital if she wasn’t ready. Something else was going on. She looked back up at the doctor.

“She’s the historian,” the doctor reasoned, nodding at Lucy. Wyatt sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well what kind of pain meds do you have her on?” he countered, and the doctor stiffened, straightening up as he glanced down at her chart.

“Well, Miss Preston, everything else seems in order, so give me a moment to get your paperwork made up and you’ll be free to go.” He smiled briefly at Wyatt before leaving.

“What was that?” she asked Wyatt as soon as they were alone. Wyatt kept his eyes trained on the door, his arm tightening around her involuntarily.

“This is a public hospital because Agent Christopher didn’t want you stuck at Mason Industries in case we’ve missed people,” he whispered, glancing down at her.

“So?” she asked, not getting it.

“Lucy, they don’t know about time travel. He shouldn’t have known we were in any other year than 2017,” he explained breathlessly, keeping his eyes on the door, waiting. “He asked what year you _were_ in, not _are_. He knew you’d time-traveled.”

Lucy stiffened, her eyes widening, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked back at the door, finally piecing it together.

“You think he’s Rittenhouse?” she gasped, and Wyatt’s hand pulled her chin to face him as he pressed his forehead against hers, meeting her eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, staring at her, breathing slowly so she could match it. “Breathe, Luce, it’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His words were strong, his tone fierce, and it reminded her of when he promised her he’d always come for her a few months back when he’d taught her to remove her restraints.

Lucy nodded, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead insistently against hers. Lucy’s eyes fell shut as well, breathing him in.

“Do you think I’m allowed to drink?” she asked suddenly, disturbing the comfortable silence. That had to be the pain meds talking, Lucy chastised herself. Wyatt laughed, his entire body quaking as he grinned at her.

“Probably not, but we’ll go meet Jiya and Rufus somewhere and get you a milkshake or something,” he promised, and this time he did press a kiss to the top of her head. Lucy closed her eyes, wanting to pause the moment, to always remember the feel of his lips pressed against her hair, his fingers absently running through the curly locks. “That sound like a plan?” he whispered and she could sense the change in the atmosphere. She nodded gently, her eyes squeezed shut.

“You are free to go, Miss Preston.” The doctor’s voice made Lucy jump and Wyatt quickly pulled away from her, clearing his throat. “Just sign these papers and make an appointment at the desk to have your arm checked out in six weeks.” He smiled warmly at her, his eyes flickering toward Wyatt warily before he left the room.

“That dude is definitely Rittenhouse,” Wyatt breathed, urging Lucy out of the bed, helping her to her feet as they gathered her paperwork and made their way to the door. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“I really want a milkshake, now,” Lucy mused as she followed Wyatt down the hall and to the front desk.

* * *

Rufus and Jiya were already sitting at their normal booth when Lucy and Wyatt arrived a half-hour later. Wyatt had driven Lucy back to his place so she could change out of the bloodstained period clothing from the 1930s (“1938!” Lucy had exclaimed suddenly on the car ride there. Wyatt had chuckled as she sat back in her seat, relieved, mumbling under her breath about how she _knew_ she remembered it). She was now dressed comfortably in a plain t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans.

Jiya winced as soon as she saw Lucy’s sling, and Rufus visibly stiffened beside her as Wyatt helped her slide into the booth, making sure he was on the outside. The soldier in him felt safer with Lucy tucked into the far side of the booth, away from any trouble, and with a good view of the door so he could see any potential threats.

“Oh, gosh,” Jiya whispered, leaning forward as Lucy tried to maneuver her arm in its sling so she could sit comfortably. “Does it hurt?” she asked warily, glancing at Lucy. Lucy shrugged, then winced from the pain.

“Only when I shrug,” she replied, smiling softly. Rufus and Wyatt chuckled, while Jiya just continued to worry over her friend. “Really, Jiya, I’m fine. It could have been a lot worse,” she trailed off, her fingertips tapping on the table. Wyatt rested his hand gently on top of hers, halting the nervous movement.

“But, it wasn’t,” he reminded her, and himself. She was safe. She was slightly broken, but she’d get better, and it was better for her to have a broken arm than the alternative. If he hadn’t gotten there when he did… he refused to think about what might have happened to her.

“So, you’re actually the first of us to break a bone in a different time period,” Rufus blurted out, signaling for the waiter. “What’s that feel like?” he asked, holding a pretend microphone across the table.

“Oh, well, I’ve never broken a bone in the present era, so I, unfortunately, don’t have much to compare it to,” Lucy replied, leaning forward to speak into his fist held in front of her. Wyatt chuckled as Rufus nodded thoughtfully at her answer, like those sports reporters on ESPN.

“You’ve just braved the 1930s most notorious crime boss,” Jiya stepped in, speaking into a pretend microphone herself. “You’ve just returned, nearly safe and sound, to the present year of 2017. What will you do next?” Lucy grinned as the waiter came over smiling.

“I’ll have a vanilla milkshake, please,” she told the waiter, answering Jiya’s question. The waiter nodded, and went around the table, gathering everyone’s drink orders. Wyatt ordered a whiskey while Rufus and Jiya both opted for beer.

“So, why was Emma in 1938?” Rufus asked as the waiter left. Wyatt shrugged, swinging his arm up around the back of the booth, his fingertips gently brushing Lucy’s shoulder. She fought the urge to shiver at the touch, mentally chastising herself for acting like such a high-schooler.

“How long did she stay after we left?” Lucy asked instead, drumming her fingers on the table as Wyatt absently drew patterns into her shoulder blade. Rufus shook his head.

“She didn’t. She must have seen us leave on the CPU. She was back in the present almost at the same time we were,” he explained, smiling as the waiter came back with everyone’s drinks. Wyatt helped Lucy open her straw and she eagerly sipped her milkshake as the rest of the group took sips of their drinks.

“Maybe she thought we’d already foiled her plans, so there wasn’t any sense in trying,” Wyatt suggested, hopeful. Lucy rolled her eyes.

“‘Foiled her plans’? Seriously?” she giggled, turning to Wyatt. “She’s not this week’s monster on Scooby-Doo,” she joked, taking another sip of her milkshake. Rufus chuckled at that as he took another pull off his beer.

“I’m just saying, it’d be nice if we tricked her into thinking there was no point in trying to change history,” Wyatt amended, grinning down at Lucy. “She might give us a break.” Lucy and Rufus both nodded, agreeing that they could all use a break in the time-traveling business.

“Lucy?”

The group turned toward the voice, and Lucy’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open of its own accord.

“Noah?” she gasped.

He was in his office clothes, which meant he’d only had a couple appointments that day. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and the top few buttons were undone, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He was sitting at the bar, not ten feet away from them. She watched as his eyes widened, taking in everything wrong with her since the last time he’d seen her.

She’d broken off their (fake) engagement last time she’d spoken with him dressed in clothes that weren’t of this era.

She was dressed in proper 2017 fashion now, but was also sporting a giant blue sling that was hard to miss. She watched silently as his eyes trailed from the small scrape on her head to the cast and sling her arm was currently wrapped up in.

He was off his barstool in an instant, and Lucy tensed as he strolled up to the table, his eyes wide, not moving from her. Wyatt’s arm slid off the seat to wrap securely around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side.

“What the hell happened to your arm?” he asked incredulously, gesturing to the bright blue sling tucked against her chest. “Are you okay?”

Seriously? That was kind of a stupid question. Lucy froze, unable to even sarcastically respond to him. Wyatt tightened his arm around her, noticing how she’d stiffened.

“Look, she’s fine, Doc,” Wyatt assured Noah. “Just an occupational hazard.” Noah’s eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to Wyatt instead, now, taking a small step closer. Wyatt’s hand reached for his holster, just in case he tried to come any closer.

“An occupational hazard? She’s a _teacher_!” Noah countered, glancing across the table at Rufus and Jiya. His eyes widened as he pointed at Rufus. “Wait, I know you. I patched you up. Lucy, what the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in?” He turned his attention back to Lucy, but she was staring hard at the ground, refusing to look up and meet his eyes. “Lucy, baby, I’m worried about you. You’re not yourself.”

“She’s fine, okay?” Wyatt snapped, irritated with Noah’s slip of the term of endearment he must have called his Lucy. This wasn’t Noah’s Lucy, though, this was Wyatt’s Lucy. And Rufus’ Lucy. The real Lucy. Noah rolled his eyes, clearly growing frustrated.

“How can you _say_ that?” he shot back at Wyatt. “How can you say that she’s fine? She’s _not_ fine, she’s broken.” He paused suddenly, standing up straight. He stared Wyatt dead in the eyes as a thought crossed his mind. “Did you do this? Was this because of you?”

“Whoa, hey,” Rufus and Jiya jumped in, defending Wyatt immediately. Lucy even glanced up and met Noah’s eyes, a fierce glare present. Noah chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head as he glared heatedly at Wyatt.

“I should’ve known. There was just something about you. I knew months ago when I met you that, eventually, you’d let her down,” Noah spat, his eyes not leaving Wyatt’s. “I knew you’d fail her.”

“Leave.”

Noah’s gaze turned to Lucy who was glaring at him now, her face red, her fists clenched. Wyatt had gone slack next to her, staring straight ahead at the wall behind Noah. He frowned at Lucy, not used to so much anger from his fiancee.

“Lucy, I-”

“Leave!” she shouted, louder this time, and the bar quieted to a dull hum as Lucy continued to glare at Noah. “You have absolutely _no_ right to accuse Wyatt of failing me. He saved me, and this injury was my own fault.” She straightened up, her face softening to a cold stare as she gently placed her hand on Wyatt’s knee, her thumb rubbing absently back and forth, trying to pull him out of whatever thoughts that were running through his mind. “Now, leave. I won’t ask again.”

“Sir,” the bartender spoke up behind Noah. “I think you heard the lady. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” Noah turned between the bartender and Lucy, his eyes wide with unshed tears. Lucy had never been so cold to him before; it was baffling.

“Fine,” he whispered finally, his gaze landing on Lucy’s hand on Wyatt’s knee, still trying to calm him. He knew. Lucy could see when he finally figured it out. He nodded, turning with the bartender and heading out the door.

The bar’s conversation picked back up as the bartender nodded at Lucy and offered to bring her another milkshake on the house before he headed back to the bar.

“Wyatt,” Lucy turned to him, gently squeezing his knee. He jumped, seemingly forgetting she was there. “Are you okay?”

To his credit, he glanced at her, his eyes wide. She could see the helpless look in his eyes and quickly nudged him out of the booth, standing with him.

“Where are you going?” Jiya asked as Lucy held Wyatt’s arm tightly. She smiled, shrugging.

“We’re just going to get some air,” Lucy muttered, turning to look up at Wyatt. He was staring at her now, and she knew from the way his eyes had softened that it was only a matter of time before he broke down. She needed to get him out of there. “Come on,” she urged quietly, pulling him gently toward the exit.

They burst through the doors, the fresh night air washing over them, and Wyatt gulped it in, his shoulders heaving as Lucy gently helped him rest against the wall on the side of the bar. He slid down the wall, his knees scrunched against his chest, and Lucy quickly followed, sitting cross-legged in front of him, gently carding her fingers through his hair, whispering as he found his way back.

“Noah doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Lucy said once Wyatt had calmed down enough to look her in the eyes again. He scoffed, shaking his head. “Wyatt, I’m serious. You saved me. If you hadn’t gotten there when you did, he might have…” she trailed off, shaking her head of all those thoughts. It wouldn’t do Wyatt any good if they were both breaking down on the ground outside of a bar.

“You’re hurt,” Wyatt whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “Because of me.” His voice broke on the last part, and Lucy’s heart broke with it. She shook her head, her eyes fierce as she locked gazes with him.

“No,” she corrected him, her hand sliding down to rest on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I’m _alive_ because of you.”

Wyatt shook his head, looking down again, straightening his legs out as his breathing became erratic. Lucy slid closer, pulling him back up to look at her.

“Wyatt,” she barked, pleading. “I am alive because of you,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his, her eyes slipping shut as she felt his breathing return to normal. His hands reached up, his fingers curling into her hair, twisting her locks in his hands. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, reminding himself that she was there. She was alive.

“I could have lost you,” he breathed, and she opened her eyes to shake her head at him.

“But, you didn’t,” she reminded him. Wyatt sighed softly, nodding, pressing his forehead into hers and closing his eyes. His hands fell to her shoulders, playing with the ends of her hair, twisting them around his fingers as Lucy brushed her thumb across his cheek.

She gently nudged their noses together, wanting desperately to comfort him and heal his pain. Her hand moved to cradle the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and their lips met in the middle. He seemed to wake up instantly, his hands slipping from her shoulders to her waist, bunching the fabric of her t-shirt in his fist as he tugged her closer. She was nestled in the vee of his legs now, her knees nudging his thighs as his hand moved from her waist to angle her head, deepening the kiss.

They kissed slowly, like they had all the time in the world. Wyatt kissed her carefully, like she would break at any moment, his hands caressing her face with the faintest of touches. He pulled away slowly, still cradling her face in his hands. He whispered her name like a prayer as he pulled her closer, burying his face in her shoulder, breathing her in. She clutched him, rubbing soothing circles into his back, pressing soft kisses to his hair as he held on tight.

“I’m alive,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, minding her broken arm as she pressed herself firmly against him, needing to offer him any kind of comfort. “I’m alive because of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This totally would've been done semi on time but my friends and I were comparing the new Netflix series 13 Reasons Why to the book, and then I got ideas for the next chapter of 'these memories', and then I was watching Friends videos on YouTube to recreate a specific scene, and then I ended up watching Friends' funniest moments, and then it was like 11pm. So, it's late, but it would have been on time. Plus, it's done, which is all that matters. I have still never missed a prompt!


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